That Girl
by SarahSmile26
Summary: He's a burned out musician, needing time away. She's nosy, and possibly a stalker. That's what he thinks, anyway. How else is he supposed to explain seeing her wherever he goes, even his hotel room? AH. EPOV. M mostly for swearing.
1. 01

_Something new I've been working on. I don't know much about what will happen, but when I do, then you will, too._

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Just this... whatever it is. The characters belong to their rightful owners. I just play with them.

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**01.**

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"So, you're Edward Cullen."

Shit. I was hoping I'd be able to do this with as little recognition as possible.

I try to keep my head turned towards the window I'm sitting next to, try to ignore the female voice that just called me out, hoping she'll get the hint and leave me alone. Because the last thing I need is some fan fawning over me or my music. That sounds like an asshole thing to say, but it's true. Any other day I'm very appreciative of my fans; they made me who I am today, and I try my best to not take them for granted, ever, but this one, sitting behind me on a bus, is really trying my patience in my otherwise shitty day.

When I still feel her eyes on the back of my head, just staring, not even saying a word, I know that she won't be going away voluntarily, and briefly wonder if this is someone whom I need to protect myself from because she doesn't understand the meaning of personal space.

Still, hopefully, the sooner I answer any of her questions, maybe then she'll go away.

I give a quick, curt nod, affirming her assumption. I also add in, "Yeah." Because... why not?

I can hear the smile in her voice when she speaks again, and I'll be honest here, it pisses me off just a little bit.

"What are you doing on the bus?"

The way she phrases that, the intonation of her voice... she makes it sound like I'm supposed to be _too good _to ride a fucking bus with a bunch people that she must deem _beneath me_. Just that one sentence, that one question, that pisses me off more than her apparent affinity for getting up in anyone's business. Who is she to judge?

Then I realize how hypocritical that sounds because... am I not doing the same exact thing to her? Maybe she didn't mean for it to come off that way. Maybe I'm just overreacting. I wouldn't put it past myself, considering the week from hell I've had.

I try to keep any attitude out of my voice when I answer her.

"I'm doing what everyone else is doing: just getting where I need to go."

"But why?"

Again with the intonation of her words. Maybe she does mean her words the way she says them.

I turn it around back to her: "Why are _you _on the bus?"

And, okay, I may have said that a bit petulantly, but I just want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask? It shouldn't be, but the longer this conversation goes on, the more I'm starting to think otherwise.

I turn back around and face forward, hoping to just ignore her from now on.

It's not easy, let me tell you.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" she scoffs, and she sounds a little... I don't know. Disappointed, maybe?

I don't correct her on my personality, though - anything to be left alone, you know? - so I just shrug one shoulder even though on the inside, I'm cringing and admittedly a bit angry at myself, but today it just can't be helped. Shitty day, shitty week... a guy's allowed to have one, right?

I'd tell that to the woman behind me, but that's just asking for more questions that I don't want to answer.

My phone buzzes from the front pocket of my jeans, and I just know that it's most likely my manager, whom I'd rather not talk to right now. I dig my phone out, anyway.

It's from my brother. Who also happens to be my manager. He's the only person that I trust to make the right decisions, and though he has in the past, for the most part, lately I've been noticing something different about him. Lately he's been acting more "manager" than "brother," and that worries me. Like, those managers you always hear about that don't care about their clients past their cut of the paycheck.

It's just one of the reasons I walked out.

The other, more prominent reason is me feeling like a sell-out.

Against my better judgment, I open up his text and quickly reply back telling him that I need some time.

His reply is quick:

_How much time?_

**The rest of the day would be preferable.**

_Shit. What am I supposed to tell the producers?_

**I don't care.**

I send that last message off and promptly turn off my phone to avoid any and all calls that will inevitably come through.

"Yep. Definitely an asshole," comes a voice from behind me. I forgot that she was even there, so I jump in my seat and spin around to glare at her.

"Do you not know the meaning of privacy? Jesus." I snap.

For once, when she sits back in her seat, she has the gall to look chagrined and apologetic. Unfortunately for her, I'm not buying it.

Stuffing my phone back inside my pocket, I reach up and pull the stop-cord, immediately standing up to make my way to the front of the bus, holding onto the handrail until the driver comes to a complete stop.

Without a backwards glance at Snoopy, I get off and enter the first bar that I see.

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_Oh, and I'll be practicing restraint with the updates. Once a week. Probably on Saturdays._


	2. 02

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. I just play.

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**02.**

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I sit at the bar, my hands cradling a glass of whiskey. It's for show; I can't stand the stuff, but after the day I've been having, it felt like something that I should drink. I took one sip and promptly set the glass back down on the bar top and just held the glass in my hands. I probably should have ordered a beer, instead.

When I first stepped inside, all eyes were immediately on me. Or, it felt like it, anyway. It was like one of those western movies where the guy walks into a crowded saloon, amidst loud conversation and even louder music, and everything comes to a screeching halt as they all stare at the newcomer. It was kind of like that, only I was pretty sure that a fight wasn't about to break out.

I'm a musician, I've been on three world tours, and traveled all around this country. I'm a household name. Some might even I'm a role model. For who, I don't know, but I come across the occasional fan that tells me how much he looks up to me. Being a role model is't something that I set out to become when I decided to be a musician, but it kind of comes with the territory. Some are probably uncomfortable with that title, so they'll do everything they can to make sure it's not associated with them. It usually backfires, because then they'll just be a role model for what you _shouldn't _do.

I'm not entirely comfortable being someone's role model, but because I know that I have people that actually look up to me, I just try to keep making the right decisions that don't end with me getting into serious trouble. I watch what I say, what I do, how I talk to people. If I go out at night, I make sure that I don't have too many drinks so that I look like an alcoholic who doesn't have his shit together.

But I'm pushing thirty now; going out to the hottest clubs isn't my idea of fun anymore.

I like coming to bars, anyway. It's where I go when I just need to clear my head. Of everything.

Even if just for a little while.

/ / + \ \

I don't know how long I've been here, nursing a drink I haven't touched since the initial sip, but I've about had enough of the women, both young and old, coming up to me to try and get me to go back to their lonely houses or apartments with them. I'm still sober, but I grab my wallet and put enough cash on the bar to pay for the drink I didn't consume and slide my ass off the stool to leave.

The second I turn around towards the door, however, is when I see her.

_Her_ as in the nosy little... the woman whom I've nicknamed Snoopy in my head.

If I weren't still in a rather pissy mood, I could appreciate the beauty. As it is, though, I don't let my eyes linger on hers for more than a second before I'm already walking passed the table she's seated at, on my way out the door and to the nearest bus stop. Which isn't far, I don't think, but if it is, then I'll just go find the nearest hotel.

I've been out of the bar for less than five minutes before I hear feet racing behind me, and I just know that it's her. _Why can't she just leave me _alone_?_

"Hey!" she calls out.

I keep walking, my pace picking up a bit.

"Cullen!"

I shove my hands deep into my jeans pockets, duck my head down, and speed up a little more. I do not fucking need this. Not tonight. _Please, God, make her go away._

"Would you stop a minute?" she sounds out of breath, exasperated. Frustrated.

I really don't want to have to run in downtown Seattle. Really. I get stared at enough already, no need to make the gawking worse for myself. But I will if she doesn't quit. She's still behind me, going back and forth between shouting my name, and yelling, "Hey!" but I do my best to ignore her all the while speeding up my pace and lengthening my strides.

I spot a taxi idling next to the curb, looking like it just dropped somebody off, and I book it, just making it in time before the cabbie drives off. I have just enough time to close the door and I see her... I see her making her way towards the cab I'm in, and I urge the driver to hurry up and leave.

He does, no questions asked, and I look behind me out of the window to see her standing on the curb looking all kinds of pissed off. I turn back around in my seat and finally do up the seat belt and tell the cabbie to take me to the farthest hotel away from here as possible. I just need a place to crash for tonight, and then I can think about what I'm going to do tomorrow about Emmett... and my career in music.

Until then, I manage to make it through the lobby and the front desk without harassment, and even the journey up to my room is quiet. The cab driver ended up dropping me off at the W Hotel in downtown Seattle. The second I walk through the door, I grab the 'Do Not Disturb' sign and hang it outside, then promptly strip down to my boxers, crawl into the king bed, and I'm out before my head even hits the pillow.

* * *

_You're getting this a day early. We're about halfway through the pre-written chapters, though. __Don't worry; I'm still writing. This actually why I'm trying to stick to a once-a-week posting schedule. It gives me enough time to write ahead._

_I may not reply to the reviews you send in, but know that I read each and every one. I'd just rather get this story out for you all to enjoy, than obsess over sending you all my individual thanks. So, just... thank you reviewing, and reading. I'll say that now. Thanks._

_Oh! Because I'm anticipating questions on who the woman is: I'm not telling. ;)_


	3. 03

_Sorry. I forgot to post this yesterday. Whoops._

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing; I just play.

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**03.**

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The first thing I do when I wake up close to noon the next day, is get in the shower. I don't have much except for a measly duffel bag packed with the bare minimum, so I throw on the same jeans I wore yesterday, but dig out my favorite v-neck to put on instead of the plaid button-down.

I look through the room service menu, then order the first thing I see, putting it all on my tab. I'm not running away from anything, so I don't care if Emmett or anyone else in my so-called "entourage" can track me. I just needed some time to myself, that's all. Some time to get my head on straight, and make a decision on how I should handle my brother.

Who, by the way, blew up my phone with countless texts and calls and voice mail messages. I scroll through the texts first, because they're easiest, and really, they're all basically the same. Just him demanding that I call, that the producers aren't happy, and that's about it. When I listen to the voice mails, it's more of the same, only this time he's yelling at me through the phone and I have to hold it a good six inches away from my ear.

Not wanting to deal with him until after I've eaten my food, I turn on the television and flip through to see what movie I want to watch while waiting for room service to arrive. I don't pay attention to titles, I just pick one and let it play, and just stare at the screen while not really seeing anything.

A few minutes later a knock sounds, and I get up to let room service in. I tip him well, and just as I'm about to shut the door after he leaves, a foot is suddenly there, blocking the door from closing. When I look to see who's responsible, I glare.

It's Snoopy. _Again_.

"Jesus Christ. Are you fucking stalking me?"

I try to force her foot out of the way so I can close the door, but no such luck.

"Move your foot," I demand.

"No. Not until you invite me in."

"Not gonna happen, sweetheart. Now, move."

"Nope."

"Don't make me call security."

"Go ahead. You'd just be calling my father, anyway."

I grit my teeth. She doesn't know how to leave well enough alone, does she?

"I'm not fucking letting you in my room. Go. Away."

She's pleading now. "Come on, I just want to talk."

"Go talk to someone else. I'm not interested. Get that through your thick skull."

"Touchy, touchy," she mock pouts.

If I weren't so pissed, I'd think that was adorable.

But I am. So, it's not.

At this point, I'm almost willing to do anything just to get her away from my door so I can enjoy my goddamned meal in peace. Anything except let her into my room.

But maybe if I offer to meet her someplace else...

"Look. You're not coming in here," I start and hold up a hand to stop her from talking, "but I'm willing to meet you somewhere for that _talk _that you're just so desperate to have. How 'bout that bar you followed me to yesterday? Say, oh, a couple of hours?"

If I have my way, I won't be here in Seattle much longer, but no need to tell her that.

Her eyes narrow, giving me a suspicious look, so I attempt to look as indifferent as possible.

Finally, she nods her head imperceptibly, and extends her hand, saying, "Deal."

I look at that hand, then her eyes, and back to her hand again. I'm wary, I'll admit it.

Instead of reaching out my own hand, I make the universal sign for "shoo" to get her to back away from my door so I can close it. Her hand just hangs there, looking all awkward and lonely. I almost feel bad, but then she drops her hand and nods curtly at me before turning away to walk back towards the bank of elevators.

Just before I shut the door to my hotel room, she calls out one last time,

"Two hours. Or I _will _find you."

Somehow, I had no doubt that she would.

But let's see her follow me all the way to California.

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_How are we doing out there?_

_See you next week._


	4. 04

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Well, except the plot, whatever it is. I just play.

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**04.**

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**You're fired.**

Less than thirty seconds after I sent that text, my phone rings with Emmett's face popping up.

It's now or never. I sigh heavily as I slide my thumb over the screen to connect the call.

"Yeah."

"What the hell, Edward?"

"I see you got my text," I reply lamely.

"Got it? Yeah, I got it. But why? After everything I've ever done for you?"

I roll my eyes.

"Look, I appreciate all that you did, Em, but I want my brother back."

The line stays quiet for a minute, maybe longer. I take the phone away from ear to make sure the call hasn't been dropped - it hasn't.

"Emmett?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. I just..." he trails off uncertainly.

"Look, I've loved having you as my manager. You're the only person in this business that I trust implicitly. But lately..."

Now, it's my turn to trail off. I don't know how to finish that statement.

So, I don't try. I just... hope he gets it.

"If you've loved having me as a manager so much, then why fire me?"

I smack my palm against my forehead. Is he not listening?

"Because I want my brother back. Not... this person who's become all about money and..."

I don't even know what I'm trying to say. Well, I do, but I can't find the words to match my thoughts. It's almost as frustrating as Snoopy. Almost.

"Since when have I become all about money? I've been trying to do what's best for you, Ed-"

"Yeah, I get that," I say, cutting him off. "But you're running me ragged. I'm not some machine, Em. I need to rest. I can't keep singing for as long as you want me to anymore, or have you forgotten that I almost had to have surgery?"

That came out a bit more angrier than I intended, but I don't apologize. I can't. He needs to know this.

"Of course, I haven't forgotten. If you'd just-"

"I've _tried _telling you, Emmett. You never fucking listened to me. Figures that it'd take me practically running away for you to even start."

"Ouch. Tell me how you really feel."

"I just did," I reply, smiling for the first time in what feels like... I don't even know. Saying _forever _sounds too cliche.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I guess you did."

There's more silence between us. Knowing my brother, I know he's either trying to figure out what to say next, or plead his case so he can stay on as my manager. I don't know which one I'm hoping for, to be honest.

"Listen, Ed," he begins. After a while, he starts again and says, "I won't go into this whole spiel to try and get you to keep me on, but... can I get a second chance, at least?" Before I can respond, he hurries on. "Like a probationary period. Give me one month to prove that I can change and go back to the manager I used to be, one that listens to his client, instead of thinking I know better. Just one month. If, after that month, you still want to fire me, then... well, I'll live."

I almost take him up on his offer, but I have to think about this a little more. So, I tell him just that.

"Okay. I understand. When will you be home?"

"I'm going to try and book a flight out of SeaTac today. If I can't, then tomorrow, for sure. Okay?"

"Yeah. Sounds fine. So... the producers?"

I sigh. "Tell them a modicum of the truth, that I needed a break."

Emmett lets out this relieved-sounding sigh, and now I feel bad for being such an asshole to him. He was just doing his job, and doing it well. He just kind of lost sight of that for a while.

"Listen, Em," I start, "I'm sorry for being an asshole."

He's already speaking over me, "No, no, I completely get it now. But, for what it's worth, I'm sorry, too."

Not knowing what else to say, we hang up, and I feel... lighter. I don't know if I'll agree to Emmett's proposition of being on probation, basically, but I'll definitely think about it and get back to him with my answer when I get back to California.

Until then, I use my phone to look at flights out of SeaTac and book a ticket for later tonight.

It's, unfortunately, the earliest I can get; everything else is already booked solid.

Hopefully, I can leave this city in peace.

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_I never said the girl is Bella. BUT. I also never said she isn't. ;)_

_See you next Saturday._


	5. 05

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing; I just play.

_This isn't beta'd. Any and all errors are mine, and mine alone. I can only catch so much._

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**05.**

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I try to stay in the hotel until it's time to head to the airport.

At one point I called down to the front desk to have someone come up and take what few dirty laundry I have to wash it, and yeah, I was paranoid every time I had to open the door. I mean, you would be, too, if you had a potential stalker on your hands.

This girl clearly doesn't know the meaning of personal space. Or privacy.

My flight isn't set to depart until some time after 9:30 p.m., and looking at my phone, I have about four hours to get there, check in, go through security, and get to the gate. I'm walking through my hotel room right now, making sure I'm not forgetting anything, before zipping up the duffel, shove my phone into my front pocket, pick up the key card, and make my way down to the concierge to check out.

As soon as all that's said and done, I start walking towards the front entrance not realizing I've lured myself into a false sense of security, because the second I step one foot out of the hotel, I see a head of brown hair lurking just in front of me. Her back's facing me, thank God, but I'd know that head anywhere and, hoping she hadn't heard me, I try to take that step back inside the building as quietly as possible, only to knock into somebody and get cussed out.

"Son of a _bitch_," I mutter. I've been caught, now. _Damn it._

Hearing the commotion behind her, Snoopy twirls around so fast she almost loses her balance if it weren't for the parking meter nearby. I was hoping to get out of this city relatively unscathed, without her none the wiser. Clearly, it's just not meant to be. Shit.

When her eyes recognize me, she smiles widely, as if she's actually... happy to see me? If she hadn't followed me everywhere I've been while staying here in Seattle, I'd find that... I don't know. Endearing, maybe. A little bit flattering. I'd think it was Fate trying her hand at pushing us together.

Unfortunately, she knew which hotel room was mine. That shit's _not _okay.

"Cullen! There you are!"

I roll my eyes. Seems she didn't trust my word that I'd meet her at the bar, not that I can blame her. I _was_ just about to ditch her altogether and leave silently. She has a right not to trust anything I say I'm going to do, but I won't ever tell her that. What's the point?

Doing my best to ignore Snoopy, I clench the handle of my duffel tighter and walk towards the curb, feigning an attempt at catching a cab, and she sidles up right next to me, like she's going wherever I'm going.

_Tough shit._

"Where are we going?" she asks knowingly.

"_I _am going to the airport; _you _are going to leave me alone."

She's laughing like I'm not serious. It pisses me off.

"What the fuck do you _want _from me?" I snap. She's pushing my buttons, even ones I didn't know that I have, and she knows it, but apparently couldn't care less. _I'm hiring a pair of bodyguards when I get home. This shit is insane._

"I told you. I just want to talk."

I scoff. "Yeah, you're fucking crazy if you think I'm going to talk to someone who's stalked me since I got here. Thanks, but no, thanks." I even do the universal sign for "run along now," only she doesn't seem to get the hint.

"Look, I'm sorry if you think I stalked you." I raise my eyebrows skeptically. She's so full of it, it's unbelievable. She rolls her eyes in response. "Okay, I'm sorry for stalking you. Happy?"

"Not in the slightest," I mutter.

This was supposed to be a trip to help me clear my head and breathe, if only for a little while. It turned out that this trip became me hiding from a stalker who's at least a foot and a half shorter than I am, with apparent connections to law enforcement. Her dad's security at this hotel, though. How many connections can one have?

Whatever. I just want to go home.

But with Snoopy all up in my personal space… it looks like I'll have to hear whatever it is she has to say first before I can get my life back and move on from this nightmare.

"Fine. I'll be generous and give one hour. And when that hour is up, you _leave me alone_. Got it?"

She doesn't look at all happy now, but I don't care. I just want to get home, and if I have to suffer through an hour in order to do that, then so be it.

* * *

_Apologies for making you all wait. Part of my excuse was school, but I'm break now. Another excuse is actually that I ran into a brick wall when I got halfway through this chapter. I was on a roll and then, BAM! A word I needed wouldn't come out, so I had to spend extra time trying to find it._

_Anyway. I was trying to be mysterious with the girl (woman), but really, I don't know who I was fooling. I had Bella pictured for the part of Snoopy since I dreamed up the first chapter. ;)_

_Hopefully this roadblock is over, and I'll have another chapter for you guys next Saturday._

_Reviews are read and appreciated. I don't reply back because I figure you all would rather get more of the story. But I do read them. :)_


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